


the misfortunes of the moon clan's hunting expedition

by STRAYBEBE



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Bounty Hunters, M/M, Magical Realism, Multi, Mythology - Freeform, Other, but to an extent okay, forest fairies, just some kissing too, lots of bxb tho, no real diccs, not really historical but id say ancient
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22185250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/STRAYBEBE/pseuds/STRAYBEBE
Summary: Park Seonghwa thinks he can take down the night killer plaguing his clan, but the mission is proven much harder when the said killer is the reason that drama spreads among the best ever hunting expedition of the region, tearing their one-of-a-kind bonds apart.[2020]
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Jeong Yunho, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Kang Yeosang/Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa/Song Mingi
Kudos: 11





	the misfortunes of the moon clan's hunting expedition

**Author's Note:**

> so uh i wasn't initially planning to post this but here i am. the idea plagued my head so much after binging the first few episodes of ertugrul that i couldn't help it and BAM. the chapters might come off as a bit short, but i'll need to post before i forget my usual flow.

* * *

Park Seonghwa was considered the most beautiful man of his clan, with shimmery olive skin greatly complimenting his jet-black hair. The people say he looked just like his father when he was younger, a stern and broad-shouldered man with about more than half of his height consisting of his legs alone. His paternal aunt, a poet by nature, would never let go of the idea that her nephew was the best blessing of any mother in the world and even dedicated one of her best poems to him, describing his hands “as smooth as the river’s current” and his eyes “rich in the sweetest honey.” It served as entertainment to watch his face grow red reading such poems.

The way he carried himself was quite strange, really. He had his shoulders squared and his back erect, yet he would hang his head low as if in shame, eyes down. Eye contact was seemingly forbidden to him, a self rule tricking everyone into thinking he constantly lied, despite being the complete opposite. Was it sympathy that made him so kind and giving? Was he taught that humility is the best trait man can ever inhibit? Did his aunt succeed in raising him right, as if he was her own son? Allow me to spoil that she has, as a matter of fact, failed.

He never talked unless he was talked to, and even so, he gave short and clipped sentences as responses, proving his lack of interest in pretty much everything except weaponry and hunting. Very few people earned his proper responses and a good conversation, one being his own father and the blacksmith's son, a childhood best friend of his, Choi San. For some reason, the cut-off behavior would charm every girl in the clan. Is he using his humbleness as a fake trait of himself to actually show off?

As always, he was armed, and if he did not have his beloved scimitar by his side, his calloused hand ready on the handle, two daggers – one smooth and straight, one jagged and rough – held onto his belt, ready by his side, and oh how the people wished they knew what purpose the weapons served. He himself knew it was for self-defense even within the clan, which made sense since no one's enemies were defined anymore. The people had their own theories. Was it his wrath that caused him to kill random men in the clan amid nights?

Believe me when I say that the people thoroughly believed that he was responsible for the vanishing and murder of the clan's men, dragged out of their beds at night and gone with little to no struggle in the morning. It had been going on for quite some time, and the suspicion only increased when he would slightly wince at the mention of such a conversational subject. Some of them even reported witnessing him leaving the residence for God knows what, disappearing into the nearby Den's Forest.

Sadly, no one could raise their voices even in the talk, for this was the son of the clan's leader in the center of rumors, a prince to everyone in authority and power. However, it made no sense that he would reject such formality addressed to him, and instead insisted that he be treated like any son in the clan. Only other men his age would look up to him as a selfless hunter, the clan's older women him as a son. The rest stared him down, loathing.

Ah, but the part about him frequently leaving the clan was true. He would grab his bow and arrows and, keeping his scimitar and daggers with him, left in the middle of the nights, black cloak hiding him in the night's darkness. His real intent had nothing with the random killing of his clan members, but against. He wished to track down the killer and end him once and for all. Only his father knew of his plan, hence permission of his "absence" granted.

On one fine day, he asked his father for an extension of his nightly visits to Den's Forest. As a "royal" who wished nothing but for his son to be happy and successful, he granted.

"I wish to know why."

For a man like him to hide something from his father was beyond imaginable, so Seonghwa answered.

"I have deciphered the patterns of the murderer, Father. The said person tends to initiate their preparations in the afternoon and evening, so that they may set out at dusk and return at dawn."

A sturdy man in his forties, Father stared him down with beady eyes.

"My boy, how can you be sure of the killer's identity? For all we know, he could be tricking us."

"They, father. And I may have seen their preparations on the way home from yesterday's deer hunt. San confirmed it."

Father stiffened. "The blacksmith's boy knows of this, hm. And what will he say then?"

"San only reported to me about a nearby campfire recently extinguished," the son said quickly. "He did some digging and found a sword. Not that it matched any of the victims' neck wounds...."

"Did you tell him anything?"

"No, Father. He was suspicious, but I ensured he would tell not a soul."

Of course, this was the only lie he had ever uttered to his father, for the blacksmith's son added to the relief that the killer would be downed faster. This was what they discussed in the blacksmith's hut, how to hunt him down.

"I got word from the medicinal family that the killer had changed their style of murder," said San as the two shared a plate of rice and slightly overcooked beans. "The newest wounds on the body from last night are much deeper and harder to heal."

"What makes you so sure of it?"

"Mingi has links everywhere and sent his men for a bit of an expedition. They came back and found the same weapon you and I happened to find besides that campfire from yesterday, remember? That long thing that looked exactly like your own sword-- okay are you even paying attention to me?"

It seemed that the leader's boy had unintentionally zoned out, seconds later realizing he had plunged into a daydream concerning the medicinal family's boy, Mingi.

San merely smiled, anything but genuine, for he knew of those thoughts. "You're tired."

"No, I'm just--"

"You're tired, Seonghwa," pressed San, collecting the empty plate. "It's obvious. You make a terrible liar, really."

Seonghwa closed his eyes and opened them again with difficulty. "I'll need all my strength to catch that guy."

"Exactly," said San from a little way off -- he was now in another corner of the hut, pouring cups of water down the plate, cleansing it. "If that's the case then you'll need all the rest you can get. It's only a matter of time before he takes us all down. No one will be able to protect the clan then."

Seonghwa smiled. "You forget that our clan's women can be scarier than the men," he said. "I'll be waiting for the killer to try one of our women, and she'll probably be the reason our nightmare ends."

"It's gonna be your sister," said San, dumping the plates at a side and plopping down beside Seonghwa. "She's young and she's tiny but she's always yielding that archer's set of yours."

"That set is yours, though. You made a smaller one for her with your bare hands, do you not remember? You even carved out her favorite pattern on the bow itself, the one she always draws on scraps of cloth with coal."

San did not answer. It was obvious that Seonghwa's sister mattered little to him at that moment, and so the answer was revealed within a couple of minutes of awkward silence.

"Do you find Mingi useful?"

Seonghwa faced the opposite way, the small fire only barely illuminating his reddening face. "What makes you say that?"

"I mean..." San shifted uncomfortably "You're always asking about his patients, and his family and whatnot. He's great in healing, that I give, but is he... oh, I don't know... gonna be more useful to you?"

Seonghwa made sure to pause before answering. "He is a good healer, yes, but he is still learning. If you've noticed, his assigned patients are those with ordinary illnesses and mild injuries. His father and sister receive worse-off people with harsher illnesses and moderate injuries. To answer your question, yes, he will be useful, either him or his family, because with their quick learning can come the saving of a life fighting the reaper. It will be one step closer to catching _him_.”

San did not answer.

"It is my turn to ask you about your long face," said Seonghwa.

San heaved a sigh. "I feel kinda incompetent compared to him. Okay, I create weapons. So? These things kill, but--"

"You have vast knowledge in weaponry," said Seonghwa, "the very thing that hurts people. You know how to create from scratch, and you know every little secret in blades and butts. You know the method of creation just by looking at its remains and effects. By creating them, you give our people true defense. You can save, even by using them, because, without our weapons, we are completely vulnerable to the outside."

"My father knew much more," said San ruefully. "He knew things I have yet to discover, and he isn't here anymore. If there is anyone who has the most knowledge of such crafts, it's him."

"If there's anyone who has the sharpest eyes in the clan, it's you, Choi San. This, I noticed. Your father knew methods of creation, but you have taught yourself to identify even the smallest traits of a sword. You taught them to me in turn when you first created my scimitar."

"That ... that _thing_ was made by an amateur," hissed San. "I was thirteen when I forged it. Why do you still carry it around?"

"Because it was very well created, even for a thirteen-year-old. You were very skilled since, and to see that you've improved further only makes you the most skillful blacksmith, my own best friend."

San smiled, still rueful.

"It is getting late," said Seonghwa. "I think we should move out _after_ dawn, not before, don't you think? It's as you said. If they changed their ways then we'll change ours. Plus, we'll get some of your new knives with us. I'll tell father so he wouldn't ground me. I suggest that you pass the word on. Jongho and Wooyoung would be very disappointed if they didn't hear of the amendments first. You know them, they'd throw tantrums like children."

San chuckled, thinking of the not-so-childish members of their team.

Seonghwa stood up, not without brushing a thumb across San's cheek. "I'll be going. You get some rest, too. Today was a busy day for you."

San had a sense of emptiness in his heart once the clan leader's son left the hut, finding himself all alone again. Nothing else mattered to him more than his man's safety, very often put at risk. He completed the rest of his chores before slumping down into a corner, a blanket wrapped around him, the remains of the fire crackling silently, alone.

Little did the blacksmith's son know that a little way off the boundaries of the clan and a while into the dense trees, hidden figures judged, up in the tallest and thickest branches.

_Alone? Is the boy really alone? What a joke, really._

Down on the floor of Den's Forest, a fawn's ears perked at the strangest sound it had ever heard in its small life.

_Shut up. You'll end up voicing yourself for real this time and the forest will wake._

The fawn was alert, standing tall and stiff as a baby. Curiosity fought with fear, paralyzing it, not knowing what to do.

_The forest will wake? Did you hear yourself, Kang? Are you stupid? Has the King's literature gotten to you already? It was only yesterday that you complained about how horribly composed his poems were._

_No, you idiot. The animals have the sixth sense, have you forgotten? They can hear us, even though we don't really speak with our mouths. They can sense us even though we are not visible to the naked eye. That, my sour dear, isn't literature. It's in science._

The fawn listened intently, not able to make out the mental hisses yet deciphering them itself. It was not long before a piercing pain in its tiny body brought it down, unmoving.

_What the fuck have you done?!_

_Something was watching us. I had to do_ something, _unlike you, who sits back and watches the enemy overtake us without batting an eyelash_.

The two figures lept down onto the forest floor on the quietest of feet. Two pairs of red eyes were now gleaming onto the fawn, twitching as it lay on the grass. An arrow stuck out of its body, little blood dribbling down its thin coat of brown fur. One of the figures nudged it with his foot, grimacing.

_False alarm,_ he said. _It's just a baby deer._

_You need training on your already unbelievable senses, you do. You shoot at everything you see._

A soft groan ensued -- the fawn was in pain.

_Allow me to kill it._

The taller figure rounded on the smaller. _Are you serious?! You were just scolding me on how I shoot at random--_

_No, you idiot. I mean, the baby is in pain. I want to end its suffering. Allow me to kill it._

The taller figure only watched as the latter slid an unseen knife and slit the baby's throat, taking its life, watching it fall limp.

_Anyways, Kang, I think we should call off tonight's hunt,_ said the taller figure, looking a little past. _Their teams are still up. They're probably making preparations to take us down again. What do you think?_

"Kang" waited a bit before replying in a quiet but solid voice. "I think so too, Jung, I think so too."

* * *


End file.
